


Out there? Right here beside me.

by RocioWrites



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocioWrites/pseuds/RocioWrites
Summary: “I know what you’re doing.”His heart stops. What is he doing? Oh fuck, is he back into some bad habit without noticing? Is he hurting Hermann again? Is he—?A step closer and Hermann puts his hand on his cheek, tenderly. He squeaks.“You’re setting yourself for disappointment."“I’m what?”
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	Out there? Right here beside me.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short lil thing I wrote, because I wanted to write something for these two to post and also I wanted to write something for quarantine.
> 
> This is post Uprising and paradoxically, also in the present. Don’t kill me because they aren’t really together, but they’re going in that direction, ‘kay?
> 
> Stay safe darlings!

Newt isn’t particularly an extroverted, it’s not like he honestly misses going out. But still, it’s hard to sit around doing nothing all day, he doesn’t have enough will power to stomach watching the news, he lacks the attention span to watch a whole TV series in one go, almost the same happens if he tries to read.

It irks him.

And it’s goddamn unfair. Earth and humans have dealt with so much, overcome so many disasters – the last two he’s been involved in; one for good, one for worse. So yeah, it is unfair people are still suffering out there. A fucking pandemic apocalypse is completely bonkers.

Okay, he truly doesn’t think it’s the end of the world. But there are people suffering who shouldn’t. And this is a goddamned tragedy.

He, lucky bastard that he is, has a warm home, a roommate who earns real money and can go grocery shopping.

In truth, Hermann is even more of an introverted than him. Working in his room all day is perfect for him. Getting the groceries delivered home is genius, same with their medicines. Even doctor appointments are held virtually.

Newt doesn’t need to worry about Hermann catching his death out there. Yet he worries.

However, more than anything else, there’s just one miserable detail that makes his skin crawl. Makes him want to rip his hair out and throw himself through the window. Utterly ridiculous, because they live in the first floor, what’s the worst that could happen, huh? Some broken bones at most, and a stupid broken window. Not worth the trouble.

He has tried to bake, but he isn’t that good and it feels like wasting resources. He cleans and cooks; Hermann needs to eat regularly, Newt can make sure of that at the very least. But those aren’t distractions enough.

Some days not even playing his favorite songs to the max volume his headphones allow is enough.

This too shall pass.

Meanwhile, he feels like he’s going insane. More than usual, what a fucking treat.

And it’s hard because he doesn’t want to worry Hermann. Hermann has done so much for him, he shouldn’t have to worry about Newt.

Oh Newt knows he does, he’s concerned Newt will fall back into old unhealthy habits. Like smoking, or drinking, or cloning a Kaiju brain to drift with it and plot the end of the world. Newt really tries to stay on his best behavior, take his meds, eat regularly as well and drink plenty of water, comply with his shrink’s sessions. He tries. Sometimes that doesn’t feel enough either.

At night, he fears falling asleep. Worse than those nightmares about his years under the Precursors’ control is to dream with that alternate universe where Hermann doesn’t care for him. God, that kills his heart. In this world, Hermann might have stopped loving him romantically – Newt fucked it all, hurt him so much – but hasn’t stopped being his friend, Hermann still loves him, still cares for him.

In the alternate world where it isn’t like that, Newton dies.

Here, in this world, Newton should have died. But Hermann saved him. Hermann is still saving him, everyday, with the little things. Him sleepily asking for coffee in the mornings, with movie nights, protesting when Newt’s baking experiments go wrong and cleaning it is hell. He saved him two days ago when carelessly Newton decided to read some news and Hermann held his hand while he raged about some world leaders’ words.

He is indeed a lucky bastard. He shouldn’t have all this. Shit, he shouldn’t even have hope that Hermann someday might love him again like he did when they drifted together so many years ago.

He shouldn’t even be here.

“Nonsense.”

Hermann’s voice startles him; eyes wild, he backtracks on his own train of thought and ponders how much he said out loud. They’re sitting in the precarious tiny round table that barely fits in the kitchen, dinner done with. Oh right, Newt’s supposed to pick and wash the dishes and somehow, instead of letting domesticity win, he went and had a fucking monologue in his own mind.

“You shouldn’t be anywhere else than here, Newton.” Hermann soldiers on, apparently just that last sentence was uttered. “Or…” All these lost years, Hermann wears them evidently, in the wrinkles around his eyes, in the tired frown on his lips, in his heavy limbs. Newt is part responsible for it. “Or do you rather be somewhere else?”

He blinks, processing the question.

“I, I, I…” He trails off. Hermann looks at him, an elusive emotion dancing in his furrowed brow. “I should be out there! Helping!” He shouts.

That’s it, right? That’s the thing.

He surprises himself at finally putting it into words.

“Out there?” That accusative tone and saying he’s talking nonsense (again) is the same.

“Yes!” And he springs into action, the dishes won’t wash themselves and he is a man of fidgeting hands, better have him doing some thing or another.

“You are not a medical doctor, Newton.”

Soapy hands fly around, gesticulating the immensity of this feeling in ways he cannot express otherwise. “I am a fucking scientist! I could help, I could be incredibly helpful! If only I were allowed to step inside a lab, get my hands dirty again!” A glass makes an awful sound, he stops half a second to check on it and since it’s still in one piece, he keeps going. “I am brilliant, and I could be doing tremendous good out there! Helping mankind!”

The marvelous thing about their dwarf kitchen is that it doesn’t really matter which way you turn around, you’re always able to see the other even if it’s just a peek.

So of course Newt sees Hermann stand up, forgoing his cane – and Newt is already making a mental note about which homemade ointments he can prepare to relieve pain in joints and muscles. Hermann is taller and he does tower over him, Newt doesn’t let that fact intimidate him.

Honestly, he isn’t sure why they’re fighting. But it feels a bit like old times, if more raw and desperate around the edges. Everything these days feels more raw and desperate, so he doesn’t attach to it too much.

“You are brilliant.” Hermann confirms. And just like that Newt sags against the counter, completely confused. “And I do think you’d be of great help at the front lines of research.”

“Wha— huh. Oh.” He looks away, overwhelmed by the sincerity shining in Hermann’s eyes and the thin line of his lips. “You mean it.” He croaks.

Why were they fighting again?

“Of course I bloody mean it, Newton. I wouldn’t say so otherwise.”

“Good. Good, good.”

“But you aren’t going anywhere. It is not for you or I to decide that." A stab right in the chest, right, he is a war criminal now, he should be more than happy with the gracious deal he got, the way he is (mostly) free now. “I won’t let you leave hoping to go back to those years, Newton. You aren’t allowed near any labs, any equipment. Do you even remember all the confidentiality paperwork we had to sign for you to live with me?”

Newt remembers. They were days reading boring pages and checking where to sign. They were days of tremendous fear, wishing Hermann wouldn’t back down, afraid they’ll mess up one paper and set the whole process back to the beginning.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He knows what, he’s just being difficult.

Hermann leans against the counter, right at his side, and shuts the water off. Dishes forgotten.

“I know what you’re doing.”

His heart stops. What is he doing? Oh fuck, is he back into some bad habit without noticing? Is he hurting Hermann again? Is he—?

A step closer and Hermann puts his hand on his cheek, tenderly. He squeaks.

“You’re setting yourself for disappointment."

“I’m what?”

A stray thumb pets him featherlight and then is gone.

“You are setting yourself for disappointment.” Hermann repeats slowly, as if the problem was that Newt didn’t hear it the first time. “This must be extremely hard for you, and I am sorry. But running out trying to convince them to help is only going to hurt you in the end. Newton, sit down.”

He complies promptly, feeling shocked and upset nonetheless.

“They should let me help.” He protests as soon as Hermann is comfortably seated. As comfortable as he can manage considering his leg and these cheap chairs anyway.

“And they aren’t going to.” Newt opens his mouth to protest some more but Hermann’s hand on his cuts him off. “You were accused of treason, Newton. You know how grave it all was. And I am not saying it was your fault, I’m merely saying you, being here, is a lot more than any of us thought you’d get. However, I’m afraid your bravery has run out of fortune with that last trick of yours, leaving the PPDC premises as any other person.”

A lump in his throat prevents him from replying as quickly as he wants. His leg bouncing under the table. The extreme effort of avoiding his hands to shake, wishing despite it all that Hermann will keep holding on a moment longer.

“I left as any other person.” He starts and Hermann looks severe, exhausted. Almost as afraid as Newt feels. “As, as a person who lost their passion, who was forbidden! Of doing what they love. Goodbye experiments, goodbye science. Goodbye academic papers, and I hated them but you know what? I wish I was free to decide to hate them instead of them being simply another item in my Do Not List. I saved the world, and then those assholes of the Precursors fucked me up and I almost destroyed this world. Now I am better, I deserve they let me help in these circumstances!"

“You deserve many good things.” Hermann agrees. He removes his hand though. “Newton, will you ever be happy with what you have now? And with what you haven't and aren’t getting back?”

Damn.

How the hell is he supposed to know?

“I…”

“Will you?”

Newt bites the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t know. How can he be happy when he’s almost ended the world? He almost killed the love of his life! And he won’t ever be able to forget it. He won’t be able to be the same person again, not ever.

Hermann stands up, reaches for his cane.

A waterfall of emotions crashes on him. He truly wants to help, but maybe more than that… more than that, he wants to be the same Newt he once was. And that is impossible now. No amount of help he can offer, no matter what his psychiatrist says; this is the Newt that’s here to stay. More damaged than before, and in desperate need of some new passions that won’t make the PPDC come knocking on their door.

Hermann is starting to walk away.

“Hermann wait!”

Oh this new Newt loves to set himself for disappointment.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know. If I’ll be happy. Or if I can be.” He shrugs. “But I want to try. And I only got that chance, because of you.” Hermann rarely smiles, yet when he does, it brightens everything. “So thank you. For everything.” This is good, so far so good. “I, uh. Well, maybe I will try to offer my services but I won’t get my hopes too high, I guess I’ll learn to live without my experiments and stuff." Hermann’s expression sours. “At least I hope I won’t have to learn to live without you.”

Fuck.

There goes that.

Hermann’s eyes open comically wide, his mouth a slack small o.

Panic rises from the pit of his stomach all the way up his throat. Newt is sure his eyes must be as wide as Hermann’s.

As an afterthought, he wonders absently if the bloody rings in their eyes are visible now.

“Newton…”

“Wait! What I mean— I mean—”

“You aren’t going to lose me.” Hermann mumbles.

A confession. A promise.

His knees buckle, under the great weight of all these feelings.

“Thanks.” Newt chirps.

And then, Hermann is walking towards him, his legs can’t properly support his weight, much less these feelings and the panic.

“Don’t forget to clean the dishes. I want to live without the mess.” Hermann admonishes, and leaves a kiss on his cheek.

Newt watches him go. Newt clamps his mouth shut and puts his hand on his cheek, pretending he can feel the residual warmth and softness.

“On it!” He calls out, just to try out his voice. He sounds breathless and more squeaky than usual.

Alright, hopefully not everything will be disappointing.


End file.
